Destroyer
by Viola2909
Summary: Grima confesses his love to Eowyn and his world falls apart. Direct sequel to my fic 'Stronger'


**Destroyer**

Swords clacked with metallic tangs as Eowyn sparred with the knight that had defeated her not a week ago. This was her longest continuous spar yet -since the fortnight they had first started this arrangement- for her body was growing stronger and her techniques were refined successively. But there was still a long way to go.

With a battle cry, the knight pushed forward and down Eowyn fell with a cry, unable to block the attack, as she realized the sudden pain in her legs.

Grima's eyes widened as he saw Eowyn on the ground, in pain, "Careful, you fool!" He screamed at the knight and walked in long strides towards Eowyn, to help her get up.

The knight's eyes widened in horror as realization of what he'd done dawned over him. Throwing his sword and shield on the ground, he fell to his knees and bowed, apologizing profusely, "Your Highness, I apologize! A fool I am, oh please forgive me Your Highness!"

"It is okay, Miro," Eowyn said, trying to stop his imploring, as she accepted Grima's help.

"Aah!" Eowyn winced in pain.

"Eowyn, are you well?" Grima asked, with immense concern in his eyes and voice.

"I.. _ahh_.. I think I have pulled a nerve. It hurts to even move my legs," Eowyn replied, grimacing.

"Oh you utter fool!" Grima exclaimed, angrily looking at the knight, who began his grovelling yet again.

Eowyn winced at that, and said to the knight, "Miro, please. I am okay. This too, is something that I must learn to bear," and smiled.

Suddenly, a woman came running into the room. With her head bowed, she said, "My Lord Advisor, His Highness awaits you."

Grima frowned and turned to speak to the nameless woman, "Convey to him that it is not possible for I am gravely indisposed."

"Grima!" chided Eowyn. Grima looked at her with a stern yet pleading face. He didn't want to leave her side.

"Please go!" she insisted vehemently, signalling her hands towards the woman.

"And are you to lie over here like an ailing beast awaiting certain death till I return?" Grima staunchly asked.

Eowyn was speechless. She couldn't very well get up and skip to her chambers, now could she? No, it wasn't possible. But their whole arrangement depended upon her uncle's calm and unceasing satisfaction, and with the amount of time Grima spent watching over the arrangement _(over her)_ , surely the king would come to the verdict that his advisor was neglecting his duties.

"Please go," Eowyn pleaded, "You cannot neglect your duties, or this arrangement will break into pieces."

Grima was still unconvinced, "But—"

"Miro can help me!" Eowyn quickly added, praying it would be enough for Grima.

"Blasphemy!" Grima exclaimed. He could not let another man touch her when he was so very much capable of assisting her himself, and in front of him no less. He could not.

"Grima please!" Eowyn angrily yelled.

He turned to look at her. She was irate. But he had to try one more time, "Eowy—"

"Leave me alone, Advisor!" she commanded.

Silence fell in the hall. The unnamed woman gasped, and if anything, hunched more severely, frightened by her Lady's ire.

Grima clenched and unclenched his fists as he tried to keep the pain out of showing on his face. Without looking at Eowyn's face, he bowed mechanically, "Your wish is my command, Princess."

Taking long strides, he left the hall, the woman scuttling behind him.

Grima did not look very pleased, Eowyn noted. Oh, but it had to be done, she could not take any chance with her uncle. This was already causing a riot with her brother.

 _I would apologise to you Grima._

"Miro," Eowyn called the knight.

"Your Highness!" he exclaimed, at being addressed to, kneeling with his head down once again.

"Please help me get to my chambers," she said and smiled, holding out her hand for the knight to take.

"Yes, at once, Your Highness!" he said, rushing over to the Princess's aid.

Grima must have probably confined himself to his room, Eowyn surmised. For the whole week, he had not attended her duelling training. She missed his presence, Eowyn begrudgingly noted. He hadn't made any movements to talk to her and even acknowledge her. She still wasn't certain about how to take in this development of events. She received help from somewhere she never thought was possible. But she was not an ungrateful prude, and if it was her friendship that Grima sought, then she would not disallow him.

Grima's chambers were in the far west of the palace, hers being in the north. It was a battle in itself, a test of stealth, walking to his chambers without catching anyone's eyes, or if catching, not arousing anyone's suspicions. For that to happen, she had to walk like a queen, and so she did.

Soon, she was in front of the rusted iron door of Grima's chambers. People were not fond of the man, Eowyn noted, as she saw a pair of intimately coiled snakes embossed onto the door, as if the carvers had taken special attention to carving them. This is what the general public thought of him. This is also what Eowyn had thought of Grima before he had come offering aid and friendship. How wrong she was.

She knocked at the door, once, twice. Silence. There was no response. She knocked again, louder this time.

"Who is it," came the hissed spiteful response.

Eowyn was startled. Hesitantly, she continued, "It is I, Eowyn."

Grima did not speak for a good while. Eowyn stood in confusion, waiting, and not in a little bit of disconcert. Perhaps she would have to turn about and leave empty-handed.

Just as she made to leave, the door opened and out came a dishevelled Grima, "Eowyn!"

"Grima," Eowyn acknowledged.

Very haphazard in his movements, Grima opened the doors wide, motioning for Eowyn to come inside. Eowyn did so. But then he almost recoiled, the dubious propriety of the situation dawning over him.

"Eowyn, did anyone see y—"

"Why have you been hiding yourself from me?"

Grima hung his head. This was unexpected. He could not have been more blessed that his beloved approached him on her own accord, but her questions were too arduous to answer. They would take everything away from him.

"Do you not wish to help me anymore? Have I done something unjust?" she said, so easily, putting him in a cruel turmoil.

But the despair and jealousy that raged in his veins ever since she cruelly dismissed him, seeking, instead, the aid of a mere knight, was eminent enough for him to accuse her, "I would never disregard you but that day, you seemed more than pleased to throw me out and request the knight instead." As he said this, he slowly raised his head to look at her, and the petulance in his tone Eowyn very well caught.

Eowyn decided against smiling at the caught sulkiness, and implored instead, "Oh Grima, you know just how much the life of this arrangement depends upon my uncle, your King's satisfaction. I cannot keep you with me as he summons you. You must go. Every time. If not for the King, then for me, but you must go."

She was asking him to do something for her. He would be allowed such an honour, bestowed upon him by her no less. Everyday, this world seemed more and more unreal and like a ruthlessly enchanting dream. Every moment spent with her was ineffable to his mind, his heart. Every breath taken in her presence filled him with a greed that demanded more of her.

But the thought of the knight still pricked his heart. If Grima were a man wise in affairs of love, he would have let that go and accept Eowyn's pleads gracefully but he instead chose to say, "And the knight? Are you not perhaps too closer to him than what your esteemed station warrants?"

Eowyn's eyes widened as she processed what Grima had just said to her. So it seemed, that he doubted the strength of their comradeship, that her new kinships would somehow put theirs in turmoil. She would have to put his mind at ease then.

"I am eternally grateful for everything you have done for me Grima. I consider you my friend now, and nothing and no one can come between that," Eowyn offered with a smile.

Grima lifted his head and looked at Eowyn with wonder in his eyes. Was this enough? She already considered him her friend and she said that nothing could come between them. Could he now proclaim his hopeless devotion to her and hope it be requite?

"Eowyn," he began softly, very softly, "Eowyn, I…I have great affections for you. In you…with you, I find my life's essence."

"Grima?!" Eowyn gasped loudly. Was she.. was she hearing just fine?

"I love you."

So simply, so easily, he said that to her, paying no heed to her gasp, as if, as if it were just an expression of sudden shock that would subtly change to affirmation.

"I love you. You are everything that is precious and beautiful in my life. Your lustrous golden hair, your passionate grey eyes— your very scent that intoxicates me and your soul that inspires me—everything that you are, I want to make mine. Oh Eowyn, oh Eowyn! I must have you!"

He spoke with such deep primitive desire that Eowyn shuddered. Every proclamation of yearning from his mouth was like the painful jab of a dagger on her body.

She mumbled as she took little steps backwards, her back finally meeting the uneven walls of Grima's chambers.

 _"_ No… no," she muttered very softly. So soft that Grima could not hear her for he took little steps forward, holding his hands outwards as he hoped his affections reached his beloved.

"Eowyn, I—"

"—No!" With a burst of strength she pushed Grima, both hands hitting painfully on his chest, wanting to make the space between them bigger, not wanting to stay near him any longer.

"Eowyn?" Grima asked, his eyes widening in horror as he saw her breathing loudly, with an outstretched hand that kept glaringly flashing in his eyes, a means to keep him away from her.

"No! No! I don't want you! I have never wanted you!" she screamed.

Tears formed in Grima's eyes as the first words of rejection hit his ears and pierced his heart.

"Eowyn!" he cried, calling out to her.

"I… I… would make you so happy.. you.. you'd never want for anything," he implored, desperately grabbing for any word that would touch her heart.

"I _don't_ want that, I don't!" she screamed at him.

"Eo— Eowyn," he sobbed, "I have loved you so! I would cherish you… forever… and ever! Please… please..!"

"No!" she kept on saying. "No!"

Grima fell to the ground, the pain not even registering to his mind, for there was a strange pain in his chest, as if a lonely heart was agonisingly shattering into irreparable smithereens.

He crawled towards Eowyn like a broken man, stretching his hand so that he could touch her feet, her dress, any part of her, before she would be gone like the gale.

"Oh Eowyn, oh Eowyn!" he cried, calling her name again and again, as if with every utterance, somehow, her heart would change.

While the shock still blazed in Eowyn's body, there started a sudden heaviness in her heart at the pitiful sight. On the ground, laid a shattered man in a shattered state and his only vice was to love her.

She could not bear to be here. She could not bear to see his ruined state. She could not bear to be his culprit _. But she could also not bear to be his saviour._

"I…" she began.

Grima lifted his head to look at her, and in that foolish man's eyes, hope still remained.

"I am sorry Grima," Eowyn softly said to him, as her eyes watered. Without uttering another word, she turned and ran out of the room.

 _"_ _Eowynnnnn!"_ he screamed and screamed and could not stop screaming.

On the ground Grima laid, fell completely, beating the earth with his fist as he cried and cried for her to come back, to love him, but also slowly realising, like a poison that the heart happily takes from blood, that she was never his, that she would never be his.


End file.
